Laurent turned his head away for a moment.
Perhaps hiding a smile.
Richard saw it.
That made things worse.
He leaned toward Amara.
“Do you even know what fiduciary control means?”
“Yes.”
Richard blinked.
Amara continued.
“Do you?”
Silence.
Laurent looked directly at her now.
Richard’s face reddened.
“Get your manager.”
“Certainly.”
Amara turned.
Richard muttered behind her:
“Unbelievable.”
She stopped.
Then looked back.
“Would you still like me to pick up the hundred dollars?”
Laurent laughed.
He could not help it.
Richard’s face became dark red.
Amara left the money where it was.
General Manager Thomas Bell reached the table two minutes later.
Fifty-four.
Calm.
Perfect suit.
The kind of restaurant manager who could resolve a screaming match using the same voice other people used to discuss weather.
“Good evening. I understand there is a concern.”
Richard pointed toward Amara.
“She interfered in confidential negotiations.”
Thomas looked at her.
“Amara?”
Richard interrupted.
“She was translating private documents.”
Thomas frowned.
“Why?”
Laurent answered before Amara could.
“Because Mr. Cole asked her to.”
Thomas slowly looked at Richard.
Richard waved a hand.
“It was a joke.”
Laurent replied:
“A very expensive joke.”
Thomas glanced down.
The hundred-dollar bill.
Still on the floor.
Then he looked at Amara.
“What happened?”
Amara told him.
Short version.
No dramatics.
Richard threw money down.
Asked her to translate.
She translated.
Thomas’s expression changed when she described the first part.
“You threw money on the floor?”
Richard scoffed.
“It was a tip.”
Amara said:
“No.”
Thomas waited.
She continued.
“He told me to pick it up because it was more than someone like me earns all night.”
Richard stood.
“This is getting absurd.”
Thomas remained calm.
“Mr. Cole, I’m going to ask you not to speak to my employee that way.”
“Your employee just blew up a nine-figure agreement.”
Thomas paused.
Then looked toward Amara.
She lifted one eyebrow.
“Nine figures?”
Richard realized he had said too much.
Laurent pushed his chair back.
“I think dinner is over.”
Richard turned.
“Étienne.”
“No.”
Laurent collected the contract.
Richard’s voice changed immediately.
Less arrogant.
More urgent.
“Let's not make a decision based on one badly translated phrase.”
Amara looked at him.
Richard noticed.
Then corrected himself.
“I mean—not badly translated. Misinterpreted.”
Laurent stood.
“Then I will have my attorneys interpret it tomorrow.”
Richard moved around the table.
“There is a signing deadline tonight.”
Laurent stopped.
Amara noticed that.
So did Thomas.
“Why?” Laurent asked.
Richard hesitated.